


Solution

by bunniewabbit



Category: The Faculty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-23
Updated: 2007-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniewabbit/pseuds/bunniewabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are few things more frustrating than missing pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solution

When Casey found out that it was Zeke who had convinced Delilah to break up with him, he was absolutely livid. Completely speechless and trembling with rage as Zeke just stood there with a tiny, smug smile playing around his lips, Casey finally let his instinct take over, throwing a tightly clenched fist that connected somewhere near Zeke's mouth. There was an instant of furious triumph as Zeke stumbled back a step or two, but it was short lived when Casey discovered that he had sliced his knuckle open -- probably on Zeke's teeth -- and though there was blood at the corner of Zeke's mouth (definitely Zeke's, not Casey's), that mouth was still. Fucking. Smiling.

Casey finally managed a couple of choice words for Zeke ( _fucking prick_ , to be precise), and then he ran past Zeke and didn't stop until he was home.

By the time the cut on Casey's knuckles had scabbed over, Casey had more or less come to terms with the whole thing. If he really thought about it, he was pretty sure that he and Delilah wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. Of course, if he really thought about it, the fact that Zeke -- who had become one of his closest friends, post-Marybeth -- had meddled where he had no business meddling... well, that still pissed him off. But he could deal.

He was back to hanging out with Zeke inside of a week, even though Zeke had never even shown him the courtesy of sporting a fat lip.

Casey couldn't help but wonder, though: why had Zeke felt it necessary to try to break them up at all? He just couldn't puzzle it out. It occurred to him that Zeke might want Delilah for himself, but then he dismissed the idea; Zeke was not one to be shy with his opinions, and his opinion of Delilah was... well, it wasn't stellar. And another thing -- why had he chosen Delilah to convince instead of Casey? Was it just a matter of who was easier to manipulate? But it still didn't make any fucking _sense_. How was any of it any business of Zeke fucking Tyler's, anyway?

He finally just came right out and asked one afternoon when he was pretending to help Zeke work on his new car ('pretending' because the only thing Casey knew about cars was what he'd picked up watching Zeke, which wasn't much, but Zeke knew that and didn't care, letting Casey hand him tools or hold things in place and stuff, and mostly Casey just liked spending time with Zeke and was glad that Zeke didn't shoo him away or laugh at him or something). When the whole aliens thing was finally over and the GTO was pronounced beyond repair (a hero's death, Zeke called it), Zeke mourned for awhile and then bought himself a Mustang -- _a 1971 429 Super Cobra Jet_ Zeke had told him significantly, as if that would mean anything to Casey -- and when all Casey could come up with was that it looked nice, Zeke told him to get in and then proceeded to accelerate so fast down a rural road that Casey nearly became embedded in the seat's backrest. Now Zeke was regarding him across the open compartment of that big engine, his expression somber, idly and futilely wiping his grease-blackened hands on a rag while Casey battled a very strong urge to tell him to forget he'd asked and just fucking _flee_ , which was something that Casey hadn't felt this strongly since Marybeth.

Before he could figure out why the fuck he was suddenly afraid -- because it sure as hell felt like fear, but whether it was fear of Zeke's answer or of Zeke himself, Casey couldn't be sure -- Zeke just shrugged and said _she was just no good for you, man_ and closed the hood, effectively slamming the lid on the conversation.

Zeke turned and headed for the house, saying something about needing a shower and asking if Casey wanted to wash up before heading home. Casey frowned and glanced down, noting that while he was not as thickly coated in black shit as Zeke was, he was still grimy up to his elbows, so he followed Zeke inside.

He started to head for the kitchen and then thought better of it, imagining how his mother would react to the use of her own kitchen sink for such a purpose, even though he was pretty sure that Mrs. Tyler was seldom (if ever) home to object, herself. So, he veered away and headed for the upstairs bathroom, following the sound of running water more or less on autopilot while his brain tried to work through what had happened out there by the Mustang.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered into the hall through the inch or so that the bathroom door was open. Casey put out a hand and pushed, stepping into the room and stopping short at the sight of acres and acres of bare skin. At least, it seemed that way, as Zeke stepped clear of his jeans and stood fully naked, his back to Casey, barely glancing over his shoulder at Casey's intrusion, while Casey stood there frozen in place like some sort of geeky ice sculpture.

And there it was again, that flight instinct, hitting him so hard and fast that he backpedaled blindly, his heels catching on the hall rug, barely saving himself from a hard landing on his ass.

 _Case?_ came Zeke's voice from inside, but Casey could not look up, didn't want to see Zeke smirking at his klutziness.

Casey knew he must look like the world's biggest dumbfuck, because that's certainly how he felt. Still, he attempted to gather up the shreds of his dignity, straightening and stepping back into the bathroom, mentally preparing for a well-deserved ribbing. His eyes roamed the bathroom, looking anywhere but at Zeke, noting the towels, the tile pattern, the way the steam was starting to billow up out of the shower...

"Casey."

Zeke's voice sounded odd, rough, and Casey inadvertently looked up at him, chagrined that he couldn't help flinching and jerking his eyes away as Zeke stepped closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zeke's grimy hand move, lifting and going still, then dropping again. Puzzled, Casey glanced up and met Zeke's brown eyes. There was no sign of a smirk there; just something a little sad, even wistful. Casey had never seen Zeke looking so... vulnerable.

And, there it was: the piece of the puzzle that Casey had been missing. Suddenly, so many things slammed into place in his head that he nearly staggered with the force of it. Must have staggered, because Zeke's hand was on his elbow as if to steady him as he frowned down at Casey in concern, silently studying him as Casey just tried to breathe, in-out, in-out, and stared back at him. "Fucking prick," Casey said, wonder in his voice.

Zeke's eyes went wide, then, as Casey grasped Zeke's forearm and tugged himself up, stretching across the impossible distance. Too far, too far, Zeke was too fucking tall, and Casey reached up with his free hand and clamped it around the back of Zeke's neck as if he planned to climb Zeke bodily if he had to. But Zeke got it, understood, and dipped his head down toward Casey until everything was warmth and wet slickness and oh, God, Zeke's tongue, sliding into his mouth, curling and pulling until Casey felt a tugging clear down and into his toes, and in another minute, Casey was going to be climbing Zeke for real. He couldn't stop the pathetic-sounding moan deep in his throat as he felt one of Zeke's big hands cup the side of his face.

Too soon, Zeke pulled away, and Casey gulped air and just looked at Zeke, now unable to tear his eyes away from Zeke's face. Whatever sadness had been in his eyes before was gone, replaced by the trace of a smile and something that Casey couldn't yet identify.

"You're dirty," Zeke murmured, drawing Casey's eyes to his lips as he smudged a thumb along Casey's jawline.

Casey swallowed and felt heat rise in his cheeks, his stomach performing an odd little flip which somehow turned to liquid warmth that trickled down and settled low in his belly. He tore his eyes away from Zeke's kiss-reddened mouth and up to meet Zeke's gaze. "I have a feeling I'm about to become a lot dirtier," Casey told him.

Zeke let out a surprised laugh. "Whoa, now... Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Casey gave Zeke a steady look. "And who would we be getting ahead of? Not you, obviously," he said, gently nudging Zeke's half-hard cock with his hip, grinning to himself at Zeke's soft hiss and his own audacity. "And not me -- I feel like I've been so far behind that I've been living a past life. C'mon, Zeke." Casey grabbed Zeke's hand and walked around him, turning him, and let his voice drop to a whisper. "I want to catch up."

Tugging down and tiptoeing up at the same time, Casey caught Zeke's lips again in a fierce but chaste kiss, lingering for just a moment and then backing away, giving Zeke his best conspiratorial grin.

"C'mon," he repeated, and stepped back and under the spray of water, clothes and all, pulling a laughing Zeke in after him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


End file.
